


Broken Wings

by Buggirl



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Brotherhood of Steel - Freeform, Commonwealth Minutemen, M/M, OC Kiss Week, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-08-17 06:23:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8133596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buggirl/pseuds/Buggirl
Summary: Working for the Minutemen, Sole Survivor Nate Carmichael seeks help from the Brotherhood of Steel and comes across an unexpected attraction. A story for OC kiss week. Vincent Cortez (Brotherhood bastard) belongs to trashofthewasteland (thankyou for indulging me).





	1. Chapter 1

Nate turns the letter over in his hand a smirk comes to his lips before he waves it in Preston’s face. “You’re not gonna believe this, Preston.”

Preston tilts his head questioningly. “What is it?”

“The Brotherhood said yes, to what we offered. A few details are all they need-- a contract and to send a signal flare-- and they said they’d send someone.” He shakes his head. “I can’t believe it.”

“Wow. They must have been desperate for supplies to have said yes.”

“Who knows; they’re far too secretive for us to even know why the hell they’re here in the Commonwealth in the first place.”

Nate looks over the contract, specifics on the Brotherhood aside, it appears above board. The response comes at a good time. Nate had written to the Brotherhood’s sentinel-- a no-nonsense woman by the name of Victoria Galloway, with expectations of refusal. From what he knows of her-- and that’s little-- she never gives anything away free, but from his limited knowledge of the Brotherhood of Steel, that’s a trait they encourage. Nevertheless, they had said yes to Nate’s offer of supplies and free passage through Minutemen allied settlements and in return, they offered assistance with modifications and upgrades for their power armor.

He grabs a pencil and scratches his name across the bottom of the contract. Nathan James Avery Carmichael the fourth. He snorts a laugh, Nate Carmichael, indolent son of Nathan James Avery Carmichael the third, might finally be able to deliver on something. 

The flare goes off with a loud bang and lights up the darkening afternoon sky above Sanctuary. The sets of power armor wait for attention inside a warehouse built on a slab on an old, now demolished house. Fifteen sets in all, rusty, broken, damaged, are lined up against the walls and wait to be rebuilt, like the Minutemen of old.

Nate and Preston return to the main house, to gather what extra tools they might need. They don’t have to wait long for a Brotherhood Vertibird to arrive, it hovers in the intensifying rain, above where the playground-- recently dismantled, once stood. Four figures emerge once it touches ground, three men and a woman. The men, look to be well-armed soldiers carry heavy bags.

“Hell, there’s four of them,” Preston says to Nate.

“That’s-- unexpected,” Nate replies. He wonders how many supplies they want from the settlement given the number of soldiers they’ve deployed for this favor.

They’re greeted with restrained politeness. “I’m scribe Devereux, Mr Carmichael,” the woman says. “Do you have the contract?”

Nate nods and hands the paper over to her. “I didn’t think there’d be four of you, but we have--”

Scribe Devereux interrupts. “Only one of us is staying, Mr Carmichael. Knight Cortez here.” She points to the tallest man in the group. “One expert should be adequate for what you require.”

Nate looks to Preston then to the Brotherhood soldier. He’s dark haired, quiet, serious, much taller than either Preston or Nate, with a scar that cuts down one side of his face. He has chiselled features, were they less Wasteland affected, Nate might have called them ‘handsome’ as it is, rugged and noticeable feel more appropriate a description. He wears simple soldier fatigues and a bomber jacket. There’s a sense that Knight Cortez isn’t pleased to be here. “Ahh I see,” Nate says and smiles awkwardly at Cortez.

“Mr Carmichael, as per the contract we’ll return in a week to collect Knight Cortez. We hope that will be sufficient,” She gives them a weak smile.

“More than,” Nate replies and watches as the three of them depart. He turns his attention to Cortez. “If you come this way, Knight Cortez I can show you where you can sleep.”

“I’ll be working here?” Cortez says and points to the warehouse, the doors are open wide and reveal the crammed space within.

“Ahh, well, um, yes,” Nate replies.

“Then I’ll sleep there.”

Nate shakes his head. “There’s not a lot of room and we’ve got perfectly comfortable beds--”

Cortez cuts him short. “I’m not here for comfort. I’m here for work. Let’s start.”

Nate let’s out an incredulous laugh but then sees no return laughter cross Cortez’s face. He looks to his watch and sees it’s close to six pm, close to their usual knock off time, if they don’t have guard duty that is. Preston nods towards the guard tower, he does have a shift, and it’s a shift about to begin.

Twilight begins to creep across the settlement, and the sun is almost down. “Well, we can work until dinner, I guess,” Nate says, a reluctant tone in his voice, he’s been up since dawn and is already tired.

Preston departs but talk of food appears to peak Cortez’s curiosity. “Dinner? What time is dinner?” he asks.

“Ahh I think tonight maybe seven thirty--”

Cortez doesn’t wait for more explanation than that before he walks through the warehouse doors and over to the work bench against the wall. He drops two of the bags at his feet and speaks without turning to look at Nate. “Where do you want me to start?”

“We have a collection of mods and upgrades over there.” Nate points to the other corner of the warehouse. “Maybe you can look over what we’ve got and tell us if they’re any good?”

Cortez nods and walks over to the other bench. Nate stands back and leans against the wall. Ten minutes, twenty, then half an hour pass before Cortez finally speaks. “Most of these are garbage,” he says and begins walking around the warehouse, appraising each piece of power armor in the stands. 

Nate remains silent as Cortez continues, the Brotherhood mean business it appears. Another twenty minutes pass.

“You’ve got some nice pieces.” He waves an arm towards the door. “I need paper, pencil, clipboard and a list of any items that can be used that aren’t here in this warehouse, currently.”

Nate nods. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

When he returns, Cortez has stripped out of his jacket and wearing a simple t-shirt, he’s kneeling down, a heavy chest piece in one hand. Nate shuffles back a step surprised by Cortez’s sudden show of muscle and finds his gaze drawn to Cortez’s heavily tattooed left arm and the arteries bulging along the skin. He takes in the ink, black and mostly illegible at this angle. However, separated out is a crudely drawn bird surrounded by names and places. 

He puts his hand to his mouth and swallows, finding himself suddenly interested in what might be on the rest of Cortez’s skin. “Dinner’s almost ready,” he says absent minded.

Cortez grunts, stands and stares at Nate, waiting for him to lead him out of the warehouse. They head to the main house. Settlers have their food already and are sitting at tables under the house carport.

Nate hands Cortez a large bowl. He doesn’t say thanks.

Tonight’s meal is Razorgrain and Radstag stew, and Nate watches as Cortez fills his bowl to the brim. They sit at a nearby table and he watches fascinated, as the soldier appears to inhale the stew. 

“Can I have more?” Cortez asks when he finishes.

“Of course, have as much as you like.”

Cortez fills his bowl to the brim again and returns to the table.

Nate smiles broadly and tries not to laugh. “Don’t they feed you on the Prydwen?”

Cortez shifts awkwardly in his seat and narrows his gaze in confusion. “Yeah, they feed us. Pretty well. What are you saying?” 

“I’m not saying anything, Cortez, you look hungry is all.”

“I’m always hungry,” he replies.

Nate watches him devour his second helping, allowing his gaze to once again grace over Cortez’s arms. He thinks that the level of physical exertion the Brotherhood expects of its soldiers must be extreme to warrant such an appetite. “So Knight Cortez, should I just call you Cortez? Is that acceptable?”

“Cortez is fine, or-- or just Vince.”

Nate purses his lips, so the living man mountain has a voice and a name beyond his title. “Vince hey?”

Vince nods and finishes off his second bowl of stew. Vince gets a third bowl from the communal pot and eats it with the same gusto as the previous two. After he finishes he stands and stares at Nate expectantly.

Nate takes it that he wishes to head back to the warehouse, he sighs and stands, he’s really hoping for a beer and the latest chapter of an unread comic. 

When they return to the warehouse, Nate acts as assistant to Vince for the next two hours. There’s little in the way of conversation, which suits Nate who’s been awake for over fifteen hours already. Shortly before midnight, they finish and Nate breathes a sigh of relief before asking one last time whether Vince still wishes to sleep the night on the floor of the warehouse. Vince shakes his head so Nate leaves him to the sleeping bag on the floor and walks across Sanctuary’s bridge and back to his Red Rocket abode. Despite fatigue he’s restless, when he finally falls, he dreams of tattoos and birds flying free.

The following few days are much the same. Vince works tirelessly, Nate, Preston and several other Minutemen come, and go-- taking in what Vince has to say, about the armor, about the machinery they’ve never really had a handle on and the ingenious ways to use the junk that’s been collected from outside and within the settlement. Nothing is wasted, especially not Vince’s time.

On the fourth day, the sun shines and Vince and Nate are sitting outside the warehouse. Vince has completely removed his shirt and Nate gets to see what was lurking underneath all along. His eyes graze along his muscular chest, both the front and his back are littered with tattoos. Names and dates mostly, symbols of the Brotherhood-- the man is a walking poster for the cause. Nate can’t help but admire Vince’s physique, it’s to his tastes and it’s been a long time between drinks.

“You-- ahh-- got a lot of tatts,” Nate says. “Wanna tell me about some of them?”

Vince sniffs the air, “Battles mostly. Comrades, friends. Fam--” He stops mid-sentence and Nate sees that he’s stifling the words before they come out. “Brotherhood loyal tattoos.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Nate replies. “But hey, I don’t see any embarrassing ones.”

Nate catches a curl of smile on one side of Vince’s lips. “I’m not that stupid,” Vince says and laughs.

“Yeah well, some of us were young and stupid once.” Nate grabs some water, takes a swig and hands it on to Vince.

“You got tatts?” Vince asks and squints in the midday sun.

“A few yeah,” Nate replies.

“Do you wanna tell me about some of them?” There’s a playful tone to the soldiers voice and it catches Nate off guard.

Nate rubs his nose and laughs loudly. “Well there’s this one.” Nate lifts the sleeve of his t-shirt to reveal his army tattoo, an eagle holding a ribbon that says ‘give me freedom or give me death’. “That’s my honest soldier tattoo.” 

Vince bites at the nail of his thumb. “That doesn’t look stupid.”

“No it’s not. Neither is this one.” He lifts the other sleeve an infinity symbol with an ‘N’ within each loop. “One N is for me, one N is-- for my wife, now deceased.”

Vince’s glance is soft and pitying, but he says nothing.

Nate lifts his finger. “Ahh but this one--” He lifts his shirt. A thick black arrow points down from his belly button, the tip disappears beneath the waistband of his underwear. At the blunt end of the arrow in a crude script curved over the top of his belly button are the words ‘Mr Gutsy’ and underneath that ‘no guts no glory’.

Vince laughs, and Nate thinks it sounds hearty, and genuine. He likes the sensation it creates in him, the low rumble as it dances through the air and reverberates against his own chest. He catches Vince staring at him; it’s a fraction longer than he has at any other time. Nate smirks and rubs his thumb across the top of his lips.

“We should get back to it,” Vince says and stands.

For the rest of the afternoon once again little conversation passes between them, but Nate notices Vince staring at him when he thinks no one is looking, least of all Nate.

Later in the day, after dinner when they’re almost finished, Nate makes a suggestion; he can’t pretend he’s not interested in the Brotherhood soldier anymore. “Vince, I’ve got some power armor back at the Red Rocket, would you mind having a look at it for me? It’s in good condition, but-- having an expert such as yourself--”

Vince’s wipes a sheen of sweat from his brow and answers before Nate can finish. “Sure, want to do this now?”

Nate bites his lip detecting an enthusiasm in Vince’s response. “If you’re not too tired,” he replies. 

They walk across the Sanctuary Bridge. Vince pauses at the Minutemen statute. “There’s a lot to commend the Minutmen,” he says.

When they return to Red Rocket Nate points to his power armor frame and the colorful armor sitting within it. “There she is.”

Vince starts his inspection. Nate brings out a couple of beers from the cooler and puts them on the bench and leans on his elbow to watch as Vince goes over every piece of the armor. 

He’s kneeling when he finally he turns head to Nate. “You’re right, you keep it in good condition.”

Nate snorts a laugh. “You sound like you doubted that I did.” He stands, walks towards Vince, and hands him a beer. 

Vince stares at it before standing himself, nodding and taking it. “Given-- given the other armor in your possession, I doubted it was going to be any better. You could always do with some decent modifications, but It’s the best--”

Nate feels his grin widen. “Best of a bad bunch?”

Vince laughs and Nate feels as though the sound makes the room a fraction warmer. He puts his empty beer bottle down and moves closer to Vince. “Want another?” he asks.

Vince drains the bottle and hands it to Nate. “Yeah, why not.”

“Go and sit down.” Nate shakes his head towards the next room.

Vince turns to look, spots the sofa and heads to sit down. When Nate returns, he gives Vince a large smile, the Brotherhood soldier appears distinctly uncomfortable. He hands Vince the beer, sits down next to him and kicks off his boots into the corner, crossing one foot over the other. He revels in the stretch in his toes and the aching arches. “Do you get to relax much? With the Brotherhood?"

Vince shakes his head. “No, not really. We spend a lot of time tied up in duties. We have furloughs, but, I-- I don’t do much.”

Nate puts his beer down on the table and turns to him. “There’s always Diamond City. I suspect Goodneighbor probably isn’t ideal though.”

Vince blinks and looks at Nate. “I don’t know anything about Goodneighbor.”

He laughs and puts a hand on Vince’s shoulder. “It’s full of ghouls. I doubt you’d want to go there.” 

Vince looks at Nate's hand, but he doesn’t try to move it. Even when Nate traces a finger down his arm to the crudely drawn bird tattoo. 

Nate tilts his head as he looks into Vince’s eyes. “Does this mean something?”

Vince licks his lips. “Yes,” his voice is quiet, barely above a whisper. “Yes, it means something.”

Nate traces the image with his thumb, it’s been months since he shared a kiss with someone, that someone had later slapped him, called him a coward, and only a month before, another had cursed his name to the night, thrown caps at his feet and disappeared to the Capital. Yet one more had punched him in the gut, told him five rounds in the ring was too good for him and left as well. Three hearts he had charmed, three he had disappointed, like so many before.

He leans in and kisses Vince on the cheek. Nate can feel him gulp and swallow and Vince leans away to place the beer bottle at his feet. When Vince returns, they come face to face. Nate doesn’t hesitate, he kisses him, full on the lips. Behind the kiss he feels a hunger grow on Vince’s side. Tongues connect as hands start to wander. There’s no doubt as to where Knight Cortez will spend the rest of the night. Not on the hard floor of the warehouse, but in the comfort of the only bed in the Red Rocket Truck Stop.

Nate wonders how he’ll manage to disappoint this soldier. The thought is lost in the deepening of the kiss.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little steamy between Nate and Vince, and for the first time in a while Nate feels completely relaxed, even though Vince is a virtual stranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone asked for more? Yeah I couldn't help myself really. And thanks to Koji for giving me her OC to play with. This will likely be a three act story. Rating changed to Explicit ~ for obvious reasons.

There’s no window to filter the light into Red Rockets bedroom, but Nate wakes at dawn. The internal alarm clock never changes, his eyes flicker open the same time each day no matter how tired he is, no matter how little sleep, and like today, no matter how sore his body. Vince’s arm wraps tight around his waist like a man who doesn’t want to let go, his fingers tickle Nate’s side. It’s been a damn long time since such an indulgence of fucking left him feeling this way. Not since-- since Nora has he felt this satisfied. 

The ache in his muscles washes over him as he shifts awkwardly in Vince’s embrace. Nate’s not a small man, but the addition of this Brotherhood soldier makes this usually adequate double bed, feel crowded. Sheets bunch in one corner and the blanket end hangs primarily on Nate’s side of the bed. Despite being awake, it’s a struggle to get up, so Nate closes his eyes again and takes a deep breath. The room smells, of sweat, of several beers too many, and that moist clammy intoxicating scent of testosterone and sex.

Nate goes to slide off the bed but Vince pulls him back forcefully and kisses the back of his neck.  
“Not yet, Boss.” 

He relents and allows the bigger man to pull him in tight, relaxing himself into the smaller spooned position.

“What’s the time?” Vince asks.

“Just gone six,” Nate says.

“How do you know that without looking at your watch?” Vince replies.

Nate sniffs and wiggles against him. “I just do. Habit.” He takes Vince’s hand in his own and brings it to his face. He can just make the outline of tattoos coming up from his wrist, including the crudely drawn bird. He kisses it without thinking and Vince grabs his wrist and twists it behind his back, placing his palm square on Vince’s growing erection. Nate jumps with the suddenness of the move.

“Yes?” Vince asks.

Nate gives a huff of a laugh and begins running his hand up and down Vince’s length. “I can’t say no to such an offer.” He flicks his thumb over the tip of Vince’s cock and feels the low hum of Vince’s voice against the back of his neck.

He increases the tempo of his ministrations, feeling Vince’s cock turn rock hard in his sweaty palm. No need for the makeshift lube from last night—not yet anyhow. He leans forward and grabs one of the Jimmy Hats from the night stand, a ‘condition of entry’ that Nate’s military training provides and still not shaken from his mindset, despite that lack of availability in the Wasteland. He rips it open with his teeth and let’s go of Vince’s cock, the remnant bedclothes fall gracefully on to the floor when Nate spins around.

Nate brings his face close to Vince’s and licks his lips. “You want to fuck me again?” he asks.

“You want to fuck me again, Sir?” Vince places heavy emphasis on the ‘Sir’ and plasters a smirk across his face.

Nate holds back a snort of a laugh. “Forgive me, Sir.”

Vince pouts when he sees the condom in Nate’s hand but he rolls on to his back and puts his hands up and behind his head. “Put it on me, then sit your tight little ass on my cock, like a good Boss.”

Nate tilts his head, sits up and purses his lips. “Yes, Sir,” he replies. His hand goes to Vince’s cock, sliding the condom on with ease. He leans back to the nightstand and takes a handful of lube, coating it on the tip of Vince’s cock and along the crack in his ass. He lifts his leg and straddles the stop of Vince’s legs. He palms his own cock as he does, then switches to pump Vince’s spreading the lube along the full length. 

They’ve been together one night and already Nate feels a pattern emerging. The night before, Nate couldn’t quite read this soldier’s mind, but he took a chance on a kiss and Vince didn’t back away, nor did he back away from Nate’s hand squeezing his knee. Instead, he had Vince muttering into his ear that he liked it rough, and would he be okay with that. Nate responded with a ‘Yes, Sir,” and Vince had grabbed him around the waist and overpowered him with kisses in response.

Simple and to the point, he made Nate call him Sir, made him suck and fuck and it was like slipping into a comfortable pair of shoes, where he didn’t have to think who he was, why he was here, or where he was for that matter. Listening to Vince bark commands at him most of the night had him hard as rock, just the way he liked it.

Vince sits up and grabs Nate biceps dragging him forward for a rough kiss.

“Come on,” Vince utters then leans sideways to kiss his chest and bite teasingly on Nate’s stomach muscles. 

Nate smears the remaining lube on the bed then runs his hands over Vince’s head and through his loose shoulder length hair before Vince leans up for a kiss. It’s hungry, those kisses, as if he’s a starved man. They’re affectionate and soft too, and in the warm morning light now flooding in from the other room it’s as though the dappled light is a warm bath. Nate’s own cock moves tight against him but Vince now has it in hand and then his mouth, he sucks at it delicately. Nate moans and runs his hand over Vince’s head again, the sensations of Vince’s mouth moving up and down his shaft sending spikes of pleasure radiating up his sides. Vince stops sucking when Nate is close to the hardest he’ll get and scatters kisses up Nate’s stomach. He stops and comes up for another kiss on his lips.

Vince’s hands slip around Nate’s torso and lift him up. Nate’s trim build doesn’t mean that he’s light he’s well packed bundle of muscle, and he’s astounded at the strength that Vince has in those hands. When they move to Nate’s ass, he feels Vince’s cock slide slowly into him. Nate closes his eyes and swallows, it’s always so tight at first, and the resistance and expectation always make him tense. Vince takes it slow, enough lube loosens things up quick and Nate groans and throws his head back his hands gain purchase on Vince’s shoulders.

When he opens his eyes and looks down Vince is studying his face intently in the dim light. He smiles as Nate lets out another moan, and Vince starts slowly to move. 

The light from outside grows brighter and he can see the brown of Vince’s eyes never leaving his own even though Nate is writhing as Vince increases his tempo.

Nate focuses on Vince’s eyes, pools of medium brown, the whites bright in comparison. “Fuck you have nice eyes, Knight Cortez.” He leans forward for another kiss and moves against him, the pressure against his prostate making him feel slightly giddy. “How did you get that scar, the one that looks like it just missed your eye?” 

Vince grunts. “Deathclaw.”

Nate snorts. “And?”

“And what? A Deathclaw isn’t enough explanation? It’s nothing really it’s just a scratch.” He thrusts into Nate several times as he speaks.

Nate responds with a grunt of his own and an ‘oh fuck’ on one of the thrusts. Vince’s cock is hitting that sweet spot and he’s sure he’ll come any minute if he keeps it up.

Vince grabs the flesh of Nate’s behind as he fucks him, then slaps it hard with the palms of his hands. Nate flinches and moans with each smack. “More, Boss?” Vince asks.

Nate nods. “Yes, Sir.” They move in tandem, their flesh making the lewdest squelching noise in the small space. His hand moves to Vince’s neck and a thumb grazes over his chin. He leans forward to kiss along the elongated scar of his face. “You are one tough fucker Knight Cortez, not surprised you’ve got a big fucking dick,” Nate laughs then moans.

“You’re not complaining I hope,” Vince says and gives Nate another resounding slap on one cheek.

Nate gasps and feels the sting of the slap, the sensation almost bringing him to orgasm. He moans and shakes his head, his cheeks feel flushed and burning. “No-- no-- no-- Sir,” he stutters.

“Good,” Vince whispers and pushes him off him, roughly turning him around and bring him up to fuck Nate from behind. 

When they’re back into position, Vince let’s Nate guide him back in before he begins thrusting and pumping again in earnest.

Nate can’t help but feel this is an exquisite fuck, a first order of magnitude great fuck, and every box ticked. He wonders quietly what Vince is thinking, but his own pleasure dominates his thoughts. When Vince’s hand presses on the small of Nate’s back and the other hand reaches around to tug on Nate’s cock, it’s mere seconds before he lets out a loud thundering moan as he comes. 

Vince wipes a hand on Nate’s skin then leans forward for a long sloppy kiss on his neck; he draws him up against him to hug him through his remnant orgasm.

Nate finds himself on the verge of tears, the release unexpectedly intense. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” he says and hears Vince chuckle against him. 

“My turn, Boss,” Vince says and once again presses down on the small of Nate’s back. His thrusts are hard and wild and Nate closes his eyes as he listens to the grunts and groans of Vince behind him. 

Nate turns his head around and Vince leans forward for a long drawn out kiss, his hair falls across Nate’s face and plasters itself on Nate’s sweaty cheek. The hand that was on the small of Nate’s back snakes around Nate’s upper torso and his hand reaches up to stroke Nate’s throat.

“Good, Boss. Now you gonna finish me off?” he whispers lewdly into Nate’s ear.

They separate and Vince pulls the condom off and throws it in the corner, Nate leans over to suck Vince through his final orgasm as he tugs and sucks on his cock. Vince runs a hand over Nate’s head then and on to his shoulders. When the last drop is wrung from him Vince pulls Nate up and close to him, he strokes his chin and his cheek and scatters his face with kisses. “Are you okay?” he asks.

Nate nods as they both lay down. Vince lays a delicate line of kisses across Nate’s chest and sucks on his nipples, he kisses his shoulder, his arm and comes back up to kiss along Nate’s chin line. A hand snakes around to rub the soft flesh of his behind. The circular movement aims to soothe the red raw skin.

Nate sighs loudly then gives a quiet chuckle. “We should get up and get back to work,” he says. “Only a few more days.”

Vince let’s out a quiet chortle. “I’m almost done with the job, Boss. Then ah-- we can look over your power armor again.”

Nate rubs his forehead against Vince’s shoulder then kisses it. He laughs in response. “I think we can do that.” He could easily fall asleep again nestled against the larger man, the stroke of Vince’s fingers against his back attentive and relaxing.

They remain in an embrace for another fifteen minutes before Nate breaks from him, stands and heads to the bathroom for his usual morning ritual. Vince follows and kisses his shoulder as he stands in front of the mirror.

“How did you get that scar?” Vince asks, pointing the one hidden by his beard, the one that falls vertically from Nate’s nostril across his lip and down his chin.

Nate starts to laugh. “Not a Deathclaw that’s for sure. A firecracker went off in my face. Hurt like fuck. Twenty stitches in all.” He turns to Vince and gives him a peck on the lips. “Young and stupid.”

Vince places his hands on Nate’s shoulders. “No guts, no glory.”

Nate snorts a laugh. “Yeah you could say that.”

There’s one more kiss, long, and surprisingly gentle given how rough sex between them had played out. They dress, share some food and head back across Sanctuary’s bridge.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An end and a beginning, of sorts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken a while to finish this. Real life came and kicked me in the head so things were sidelined for a while. If anyone is reading this of course.

* * *

 

They work hard, but say little to each other that isn’t task related. However, there are smiles, curls of lips in knowing grins. Occasionally a finger grazes the hand of the other; their eyes linger after a touch before returning to the job in hand.

After the last screw is put in place and the last piece of armor molded precisely, they stop, take a drink of fresh water, and wipe the sweat from their brows. When Nate looks to the door to see if no one is around, Vince steps forward and wraps his arms around him pulling him in tight.

“I don’t care who sees us,” he says and leans in to nip along Nate’s jawline with an eager mouth.

“Here?” Nate asks.

Vince grabs Nate’s hand and pushes it down towards his crotch. “I’ve been hungry all day, for food-- for you and tomorrow I leave, for good. I somehow think the Brotherhood won’t be granting you more favors, this one was a stretch.”

Nate snorts a laugh and works his hand up under Vince’s shirt, along the taut lines of the muscles of his stomach.

Vince pulls his tank up and over his head and Nate leans down to kiss his chest before falling to his knees. He glances around, and despite Vince’s lack of inhibition, he’s reticent to get caught. He has to work amongst the settlers, doesn’t want fuel for gossip when it’s already been difficult to win them over. Vince is already hard, and from the little he knows of the man he appears never not to be in the mood for a blowjob.

He spits and wets the tip, if he had lube he’d use that despite it not being the best of flavours. The concoction from hub flower extract is at least vaguely sweet, but it’s not a lollipop he’s licking and sucking today.

He makes sure to pay attention entire package, not just suck the tip. For a Wastelander Nate finds him especially endowed. He places one hand on the base of Vince’s cock and the other on his balls. Nate’s gentle but firm touch has Vince sucking at his teeth then licking his lips. A rough hand runs through Nate’s hair and Vince tugs lightly.

Nate pumps and twists and his head bobs up and down, he feels Vince pulse against the inside of his mouth before he emits a quiet low moan. Nate has to come up for air. He looks up to Vince as he does and continues to pump. “So this has been pent up all day?” Nate flicks the hair that’s fallen over his face to one side and blows Vince a kiss before return his mouth to the tip of Vince’s oozing cock.

Vince closes his eyes and mumbles. “You know it has.”

Nate steadies Vince’s hips, not wanting the thrusting motion to take over and make him gag. He knows he’s doing things right because the sounds that Vince is emitting is animalistic yet indicate his delight, but it’s Nate who wants to be in control of the intensity of this intimate encounter.

“Don’t rush,” Nate says. “We’ve all tonight remember.”

Vince runs a hand to the back of Nate’s head again, the other hand he entwines his fingers with Nate’s that are currently pressed into one hip.

Nate opens his mouth wider and relaxes his jaw, breathing steadily through his nose. He feels Vince about to tip over the edge and when he gazes up, Vince is looking down at him with dazed bedroom eyes. Nate lets him come in his mouth and swallows the salty fluid. Before he has even taken his hands off Vince’s waning erection, Vince pulls him up to standing and pushes him against the warehouse wall, burying his face in his neck. Nate feels Vince’s sweat against his skin and his hot breath behind his ear. The heat from Vince’s body he feels through his clothes and rivulets of sweat held back begin to form on Nate’s temples and run down his face.

Vince kisses him softly, peppering his neck and shoulder before his lips hit Nate’s. There’s no rush in this kiss, but Nate feels the desperation, the longing from Vince. It’s as if a floodgate has opened, and this man’s feelings, emotions and loneliness are free. Vince leans into him and one hand grabs the back of Nate’s neck. Vince leans up and kisses Nate’s forehead before leaning his head against him.

“I need you,” Vince whispers. “I need you.”

“I’m here,” Nate replies.

* * *

The Vertibird lands in the same place that it had seven days prior and once again several soldiers pile out and walk towards Nate, Preston and Vince.

There is little formality as Vince directs them to the warehouse to collect the gear the Brotherhood soldiers had brought. The scribe with them hands Nate a list of supplies they request and Nate nods before following the group into the warehouse.

The soldiers pick up the bags and along with Preston walk out of the warehouse.

Nate lays a hand on Vince’s arm. “A word, Knight Cortez, if you please?”

Vince smiles a one sided smirk. “What is it, Boss?”

Nate tilts his head to make sure there is no one within earshot before speaking. “When you’re back on the Prydwen– write to me? Being here– is--” He scratches the back of his head and looks away. “Quiet.”

Vince steps closer and grabs Nate’s chin, pressing his mouth against him. The kiss is with soft parted lips and Nate responds with an equal measure of gentleness. Vince is the first to break and steps away to pick up his bag.

“I think I can do that, Boss,” he says with a quiet chuckle.

Nate leans his head forward and runs his hand through his hair. “And maybe, we– oh damn it, maybe we can meet somewhere, have a drink or two--”

“Or three or four,” Vince replies and raises his brow. “Means we might have to get a room or something though. I can’t go back on duty drunk you know.”

Nate bites his lip and laughs. “Yeah, we might have to do that.”

Vince nods, tosses the bag over his shoulder and they walk out of the warehouse.

Nate stands next to Preston as the Brotherhood soldiers depart. Vince turns and holds his hand up and Nate returns the farewell with a curt wave of his own.

“Well, it appears we had a productive interaction with the Brotherhood,” Preston says as the Vertibird fires up and rises into the sky.

Nate holds back a laugh and nods. “Indeed we did, Preston. Indeed we did.”

The Vertibird disappears into the distance, but Nate’s smile remains.

* * *

 Nate’s nervous. The last time he was this nervous was the moment before he entered the church for his wedding to Nora, dragged to the altar by his best man. This time it’s different, but the feeling it stirs is the same. He has to tell Vince about Shaun. He’s tried to write to him about it, get it all down on paper what’s happened since they last met, and how Nate feels about this about finding his son, finding out who is son is. He knows the Brotherhood is looking for the Institute. He knows they seek to destroy it.

He also knows he can’t let them.

The tapping sound Nate makes on the bar draws Vadim’s attention.

“What will you have Mister?” Vadim’s deep and smooth Russian accent is easy on the ears.

“Whiskey. Two glasses. Two bottles. You do room service, right?” Nate inhales on his cigarette and blows the smoke through his nose. The sensation stings and his restless leg shakes in a rhythm that makes the footrest of the bar wobble.

Vadim nods. “For a price, yes.” He turns his back, leans down under the counter, and brings the bottles out.

“Hey, quit it.” A bald patron sitting on Nate’s left and whose voice is laced with annoyance shakes his head towards Nate’s bouncing foot.

Nate stubs out his cigarette and places his hand on his knee to quell the movement. “Ahh sorry.” He lights up another cigarette but before he can take his first drag there’s a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll have one of those.” Vince points to the glass and the bottle of whiskey and smiles.

Nate returns the smile with a nervous one of his own and stubs out the second cigarette. He looks him up and down. Vince is wearing jeans and a checked shirt; he’d look like any other Wastelander if it weren’t for the obvious bulk of muscles he carries. “Wanna sit over there?” Nate points to a couch in a dark corner of the bar, the space currently unoccupied.

“Sure.”

Nate places one bottle on the table, the other he uncaps and pours two glasses, handing one to Vince before he sits.

Vince licks his lips and nods as he takes his first gulp. “Ahh, that’s good.”

Nate leans back into the couch and feels his weight melt into the surprising comfort of its cushion. It’s been just over three months since he last saw Vince. They’ve been writing regularly, and aside from Nate’s initial time at the Institute letters were exchanged every three to four days, passionate, funny, lewd and never mundane. He rakes his eyes of Vince’s form now relaxing into the couch, the difference is he appears awkward, like man who’s used to standing to attention. Nate remembers the first night he invited Vince back to the Red Rocket. He was awkward then too. He appears bigger, and more intimidating than he remembers, someone you wouldn’t mess with on a dark night in a side alley, but that familiar coil of attraction hits his stomach.

“You enjoyed the letters then?” he asks.

Vince takes another sip and gives a small laugh. “I never thought I’d ever get off to just words. But somehow you managed to do it.”

Nate feels his cheeks flush and he bows his head and smirks, he knows the last two letters have been over the top pornographic, but he didn’t care. “I’ve been told I write--” He pauses to lift his head and laugh again. “That what I write has a visceral energy.”

Vince tilts his head to one side and nods. “Visceral is one way of putting it. That last letter--”

“What was it about that last letter?” Nate shifts closer to him on the couch.

Vince places his glass on the table in front of him and as he leans back an arm drapes along the back of the couch. A stray finger dances along Nate’s neckline and it makes him shiver.

“Took a lot of restraint not to go AWOL you know after that last one.” He leans forward again and pulls his sleeves up then grabs his drink.

Nate wants to tell him about the Institute, but at this moment, he wants nothing more than to fall into Vince’s embrace. He notices the crudely drawn bird tattoo on his arm and an idea strikes him. On their last night together, Vince told him of his sister. If the Institute could help her in some way, Vince might keep an open mind.

Vince’s brow furrows and he tilts his head. “Something bothering you, Nate?”

Nate gives him an awkward smile. “I’ve something to tell you. But it can wait. Till later.” Nate’s biggest fear is that if he tells Vince now he’ll just up and leave, and Nate doesn’t want that. He wants the closeness he felt last time they were together, he wants to give himself up to Vince, and yes he knows it might be selfish, but in the three months since they first met, aside from all the Institute dealings, Vince is all he can think about. It’s given him a sense of peace in a world that no longer makes sense and he’s greedy for more.

Vince drops his arm from the back of the couch and Nate witnesses his body tense and his jaw tighten.

“It’s nothing much, don’t trouble yourself about it,” he says trying to sound unconcerned. It appears to have some affect and Vince’s body visibly slackens.

Vince swallows and leans towards Nate, putting a hand on his knee. “You got a room?”

Nate smirks and nods. “Just upstairs.”

“How about we continue this conversation there?” He rubs his hand suggestively up and down Nate’s knee.

Nate puts his hand over Vince’s. “I can get us something to eat, get it brought up to us.”

“Huh, this place has room service?” Vince asks.

“Yeah, costs extra-- but uhh-- I think it’s worth it.”

Vince clears his throat, picks up his glass, and drains it. “Well, I am hungry.”

Nate meets Vince’s bedroom eyes and nods, he understands that hunger is for things other than food but he stands and heads to the bar to order anyway. Vince follows with the bottles and glasses.

As they head to the room, Nate turns to Vince. “I’m glad you came, I’ve missed you.”

When they reach the room and Nate begins to unlock it, Vince leans forward and kisses Nate on the cheek. “I’ve missed you too.”

The door closes behind them, the key sounds on the other side to lock it and later when room service arrives, the knock is ignored.


End file.
